


It's Not Okay (But It Will Be Soon)

by grantwater



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Gen, Just what I think Jen was thinking through all of this, and afterwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:13:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grantwater/pseuds/grantwater
Summary: God, why did she have to fuck everything up?She knew that she shouldn’t have said what she did, but right now she was running on pure instinct, saying whatever she knew would hurt the woman in front of her.The 2x09 fight & it's aftermath, could be a Jen character study if you look close enough.
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	It's Not Okay (But It Will Be Soon)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic I've written in forever, and the first I've ever written Jen & Judy. But I've had this idea floating around ever since I watched season two. There's probably a clunky spot or two just because I'm out of practice, but I hope you all enjoy!

God, why did she have to fuck everything up? 

Jen was walking quickly now, following behind Judy as she practically ran to her car on the sidewalk. “Judy, stop, stop, stop, please,” she pleaded with the brunette. She knew that she shouldn’t have said what she did, but right now she was running on pure instinct, saying whatever she knew would hurt the woman in front of her.  _ That’s because you love anyone that gives you a morsel of fucking attention, even if it’s abusive. _ She knew that she was bad for Judy, that she got upset too easily and snapped at her when she said something the other didn’t agree with, or when she was so aggressively fucking kind and understanding after the fact, even though the words stung. For fucks sake, Jen killed her fiancé and Judy helped her hide the fucking body. Yet here they were, doing the same routine of screaming and crying and running away from their problems, only to run back to each other. 

And now Judy is opening her car door and Jen is panicking, thinking of anything she could possibly say to get the only person that matters to stay. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, please listen to me, please stop.” She’s pulling on her arms, trying desperately to get her to look her in the eyes and just listen. “It’s ok to be angry, you should be fucking irate right now,” she’s stumbling over her words, not even fully processing what she’s saying and Judy is still trying to avoid looking at her. Jen catches a glimpse of Judy’s eyes through her bangs and she sees the sadness, the confusion, the pain within the depths of brown, all feelings that she caused because she was fucking angry and couldn’t control herself. 

She pulls on her again, is grabbing at her hands and tugging at the rings on her fingers. She wants Judy to punch her, to finally let her anger out on someone that isn’t herself. They’re so close that Jen can practically feel the loathing radiating off of Judy in waves, and Judy finally pulls her hand back, muttering “I’m not like you,” with so much malice lacing the words that they cut through Jen like a knife. The car door slams shut, and Jen is shaking, because her Judy can’t leave; she knows now that it’s likely she would just drive off a cliff, considering her recent confession, and she couldn’t stand to cause anyone anymore pain. 

God, how could she even explain Judy dying to the kids? As much as he tries to hide it, Jen knows Charlie has a soft spot for the woman, even respects her, and he wouldn’t be able to handle losing another person he cares about. And Henry, her sweet little Boop, who has taken to calling Judy “Mom 2” to his friends, and wants her to tuck him in more than his own mother. He would be devastated, and Jen knows that losing her would destroy this family, and she can’t let her family fall apart again. Not now that she was finally starting to fix it, all because of Judy. 

But things are moving so quickly, and Judy has the key in the ignition, so Jen does the only thing she can think of and runs to the hood, putting her weight on the front of the car and screaming for her friend to hit her, run her down, because if she’s being honest with herself she knows exactly what wanting to die feels like and she hasn’t felt it like this since the night Ted died. 

Then Judy screams. And the world goes quiet. 

Jen’s frozen, staring at the broken woman in front of her. Her eyes are squeezed shut, hands raised and poised to strike anywhere she can reach. And Jen breathes, Judy’s name barely a whisper falling from her lips as she scrambles to the passenger door and slides into the front seat next to her. The blonde’s arms open and Judy just falls into the embrace, lets herself be held and Jen can only stroke her arms, her face, her hair, anything she can do to comfort the brunette next to her. She feels the tears leaking onto her skin, but she doesn’t mind, she knows deep down she’s the only reason they even exist. 

So she kisses them away, the salt stinging her tongue and mingling with her own sadness, and they sit in the front seat like that for God knows how long. By the time either of them even think of going back inside the tears have stopped, but Jen can still feel the weight of them on her shoulders. Judy’s calmed down enough that her once persistent sobs have turned into erratic hiccups of her breath, but Jen is still holding her arms to make sure she doesn’t hit herself again. She doesn’t even have to say anything, rather squeezing her bicep gently and pulling Judy towards the door, enough of a sign that they should at least go inside if they plan on crying anymore. They both exit from the passengers' side, and walk together to the backyard, because going in the front door would bring far too much attention to them this late in the night. Jen is holding Judy, practically carrying the smaller woman, because she knows if she let her go Judy would collapse to the ground and never get up again. She’ll never admit it, but Jen knows that Judy is carrying her too, thinking the same thing. 

They make it to Jen’s bedroom, not bothering with turning on any lights, just falling onto the bed. They’re a mess of legs and hair, practically on top of one another but neither woman complains, so they stay that way. There are some times, Jen thinks, that Judy may be working herself up to say something, but the pair is silent, aside from the occasional hitch in their breathing in an attempt to not cry. Not once do they let go of each other, they never stop touching in some way; Jen’s hand in Judy’s hair, Judy’s arm wrapped around Jen’s waist. 

Jen feels like if she isn’t touching Judy right now she might just float away, so she holds her even tighter, waits until she feels her breathing even out to place a small kiss to her forehead and gets off the bed as gently as possible. She walks to Judy’s side of the bed, running her hand over her cheek and pushing back some of her bangs. She stays there for a second, she has to make sure she’s all the way asleep before she leaves the room. 

Jen slips downstairs, trying to figure out how she’ll tell her family what happened. She starts with Henry’s letter first, knowing that he would have an easier time understanding than his brother. Before she starts Charlie’s she grabs a glass of wine, knowing that from here on out it would be much harder to explain herself. She tells Charlie almost everything, apologizes for how shitty of a mom she’s been. Both of her son’s letters tell them that Judy will be looking after them while she’s gone, and she asks that Charlie keep an eye on her. They need each other; they’re a family, after all. 

Judy’s letter is the hardest. She’s on her second glass of wine now, unsure of how to tell this woman just how much she means to her. She lets Judy know that she’s never been the reason their problems started, but that Jen needs to end it. Judy is the best person she’s ever known, and she knows that she’ll take care of the boys when she’s gone. She’s always dreamt of having kids of her own, and while the boys aren’t biologically Judy’s, Jen knows that she’s a better mother to them than she could ever be. She lets her know how sorry she is, about everything. About lying, about betraying her, about not forgiving her for Ted sooner. She’s paid her price, and Jen knows that this all needs to end. She tells Judy she’s going to confess to everything, because that’s what she deserves. Jen’s fighting back tears, steadying her hand as best she can to write the last bit of her letter. 

_ I love you more than wine. Thank you for loving me and our boys. _

Jen takes the letters, as well as the emergency binder, back to the bedroom, where Judy is still dead asleep, and places them on the empty sheets next to her. She leans down, presses a kiss to the sleeping woman's temple and whispers one last time the adoration she holds for her. 

It would be sunrise soon, she realized. She had to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading


End file.
